Best Efficiently Poems
My life as a grade school teacher
Is like a life-long student and schooler
Always working with colors, pens and papers
While taking care of kids as their second mother.
Still, I oftentimes sleep quite late at night
Check exams, plan learner’s lessons that delight
In the morning, I need to wake up early
To be at school before our flag ceremony.
As I impart my knowledge and skills
I learn a lot of things, head down to my heels
I learn to be more patient and understanding
More hardworking, very kind and loving.
I learn by experience, seminars and discovery
Embracing new teaching techniques and technology
Continue enhancing all my talents and creativity
In many areas, to teach my learners efficiently.
I’ve got so many other exciting multiple roles
Classroom maintenance, nurse, guidance counsellor
Dancer, singer, artist, director, actress or actor
A lot more, to mold and shape learner’s life and future.
I also play with my learners like a big kid
To promote relationship, inculcate values, I also read
Despite our emotional farewell on every graduation
They’ll always come, visit me in my school-roles repetition.
I believe, teacher has a schooler’s life that'll last
Only after a long journey loaded in a carabao's drawn cart
Grand graduation will come with unimaginable fulfillment
And achievement felt in the heart only on age of retirement.
s/he who will get locked away,
fried in the chair, lethally injected,
gassed, hung or shot by a firing squad,
resides right in your home town,
right in your neighborhood,
right round the corner &
without the ability to feel guilt
when s/he lies, cheats, steals, rapes,
beats or kills someone,
s/he’s considered to be a major threat
to the stability of
“western civilization.”
and yet, it is said that
most “normal” people don’t make good killers &
that those who join the military have to undergo
such “training” (brainwashing + drugs)
in order to be able to do it efficiently
without the side-effects that would come
with doing it as a civilian &
still, it is said that many soldiers aim high
or do their best not to kill,
especially if in hand to hand or
close combat,
unless they are pushed to extreme limits.
the irony is that those that our tax dollars
send all across the world to stomp on others in the name of our great
empire
(our great policeman of the world),
are those least likely to do what they are being paid to do,
while those that threaten us on a daily basis
here at home,
silently & secretly,
are the kinds of individuals who can win wars.
we humans celebrate the sociopaths
when they kill in our name
when we’re on the side of the winners &
history will be forged in such a way
as to show that what said sociopath leader did
was indeed great,
that in our time of need,
s/he killed without conscience,
s/he killed indiscriminately &
had s/he not been doing it to “them,”
s/he might have been doing it to
us.
The river dragon of crimson streams
Swiftly swimming to bring my end
As I’m standing alone at the silent shore
The beast from this murk suddenly ascends.
Gripping my face in her flawless jaws
The teeth latched efficiently into flesh
Pulling me quickly into the depths
Dragging me into the shallow grave.
Surrounded in filth, drowning in the banks
The apex predator’s grip never relenting
All I can do is break, bleed and decompose
Hoping for some relief in the pending death.
I find some comfort in this prolonged pain,
Because I haven’t felt a thing in ages.
Demonically Dispossessed
...man has the ability to express great love,
and dispense great evil...
The legions of darkness descend as they beastly bewilder and offend
The serpents of Babylon attend as their ecumenical evil does extend
In a pandemonium plunge with pernicious pains and succulent sponge
With tenacious tongues they lunge and fast fade away as they expunge
~~~
In their fallacious faculties fermenting feces frolicking the wasteland
Demonic disciples preach profanities before the sanguineous sand
As they efficiently eviscerate exigently under their hellion command
For they are curious to castrate the condemned as their cries demand
~~~
Within their taunting tantalize as hearts bleed amidst the scarlet skies
Their goal the soul to compromise and for love to cripple and capsize
In a vortex venomous vile blasphemous broods of a damnation defile
For we must battle the bile as warriors of light with a sagacious smile.
Music by Slipknot-'The devil in I'
June.28.2018
Eight word challenge-7
Sponsored by: John Hamilton
Placed 2'nd
JENNIFER
I posted a poem on the 11th February 2019 that my Grandfather wrote to me in 1971, titled,
“My Granddaughter Jennifer”. I also mentioned in my introduction to this poem, that I had lost my Grandfather’s poem’s except for a two or three of them.
Well to my delight, during one of the three most traumatic events in one’s life, a move, which we
instigated, and bravely followed through, I found a small file with his poem’s to me!
I was quite thrilled – this one was sent to me 31st January 1967 when I was in my early
teens, which I thought I would like to share with you. Again this is an exact replica of my Grand-
father’s poem – keeping in mind, that English was his second language, not
his mother tongue. This poem was titled merely:
JENNIFER.
TO MY DEAR GRAND DAUGHTER
J Jubilant to have attained your aim
E Efficiently wise to pave your way
N No matter what your plans can claim
N No matter how hard is the game of life to play
I I am certain you are going to succeed!
F Free be your mind and eminent your inspirations
E Equitable be your conclusions, free of imaginations
R Remember these words Jennifer and proceed……..!
He further went on to say ….. In this world Jennifer, you will sincerely
Feel your heart overflow with happiness, but when you do, stand by
anything in which you believe is true. Only with truth will you fly to
new horizons that will help you enjoy the moment, and see life through.
Panos,
Athens,
January 31st 1967.
The whole of my life is rather mundane, endured only until those few minutes gained; Yes, granted reprieve from this daily drudge, and allowed for the nonce, even if begrudged, to hold a feather,very sharp, to write with the tip. Slow and steady like a man taking sips…from the water of life after a long weary trip.
When all the gears are lubricated, operating efficiently, and the needs of the world weigh on someone else, the mechanism of creativity connects with the crenelated cog of self.
Dominoesk works cause my hand to haltingly write. Heart to mind, mind to body, body to hand, hand to quill…okay, so it's a keyboard, alright.
Emotion, like sand after a beach trip, pours forth from places usually dark, not seen, unlit.
Using that water of life and the sands of emotion, I build my castle with words and notions.
Intricate battlements, portcullis, bailey , and arrow loops. Protection from arrows of interruption, darts of responsibility, and soldiers of the Soup.
Until, Inevitably the drawbridge is breached, the end of my time finally reached.
Slowly I surrender my feather sword, in this messy, mixed metaphorical world.
The oven timer beeps and the phone rings, bringing me back to my life of mundane things.
CAR COURT
Enter, the older heavyweight steel giant,
The bailiff, a 1954 Hudson, reads unhesitant :
On the docket for this morning : guilty by implication - a Trabant,
In close custody with a Cutlass Supreme for supervision.
Next on the docket: a Pinto for likely gas-tank explosion.
Third on the docket: an English-made car (any marque) - body corrosion.
Lawyer for the prosecution, a pretentious character, a gas guzzler SUV
4x4 off-road with winch - for Saturday use on driveway only -
Hangs out with Vettes; and uses NO2 in fuel. Who?Drugs? Not me!
Downbeat guy as the defence counsel , a solid no nonsense Hummer,
A real enviro-bummer,
Klutzy ugly and personality like a mack truck in summer.
Trabant coughed its way to the stand.
Clerk of court Volkswagen, order in hand,
Read the indictment quietly, efficiently, bland.
Prosecution began with noisy opening musical-horn tunelets
The jury, all serious-minded stolid Volvos and Toyota Starlets
Were not impressed. Hummer clumsily interrupted with an objection, “Let’s
Stop, on the grounds of precedent,” but at this point Pinto reversed,
Crushed its trunk and its gas-tank exploded, and worst ,
Hit the the English car : and into flames they both burst.
Cutlass argued with the SUV, which was winched away pending sentence.
Case against the English car dismissed from lack of evidence.
Trabant was deported back to Germany: no import licence
Overseeing all these proceedings : the ever-reliable, I-won’t-budge,
The I-have-a-spotless-reputation, I-hold-no-grudge,
The mechanical virgin, the silent Rolls Royce as judge.
...........................................................................................................
6/12/17
A little
Drizzle
When I left
I did not expect
That I'd be unable to see
10 feet in front of me
Due to driving upon
The fog
The winds were strong
Dropping branches and logs
The scenery rather dismal, instead of delightful
During arrival
I had to check
And inspect
Then assess
Fix or clean up any mess
By taking continual steps
And doing my best
There was work to be done
Whether I needed to walk or run
Touched up on any loose ends
And made sure to mend
My socks and shoes were soaked
In a place considered remote
It was all no joke
And worth taking a wise approach
Hands were getting cold
But still maintained hold
Eventually finished the job, in the way I was told
Knocked it out efficiently
There remained poor visibility
Until
I was halfway down the hill
Far less dusty
Barely muddy
The weather may have not been, but my day was still lovely
I do so love harvest thanksgiving,
That time of year which celebrates agriculture,
When church flips from being god-centred,
To remembering farmers and good food manufacture.
It’s not an Armenian or Amish allusion,
‘Cos tins are given no problem;
Natural remedies aren’t primed as better,
Than medicines, to the mind and body superior.
As a child who regretfully attended church,
I thought on that day of poverty and Christian giving:
That their offer was kind of a respectable food bank,
A silent redistribution of wealth, income and living.
No food bank is respectable, of course,
But they can channel wealth efficiently and appropriately;
And that the Church offers such for just one day,
Should be celebrated as a positive sign most definitely.
God is sometimes just such an abstraction,
Academically, he’s for the objective mind;
He’s not comforting when your needs are just so real:
Physical, emotional, psychological: he can be so unkind.
When you just need a meal on the table,
And need it supplied by someone else,
Whether by government, food bank or church,
It’s a person that's there, not divine impulse.
I thought it was moral to impose that on believers,
As a kid who just so wanted to talk and shoot,
About real mechanisms, real structures and methods,
Which made life’s systems, dynamics, art and roots.
Being grateful for food, diet and health,
Eclipses salvation humility and responce;
Eternal purpose lays as distant and non-tangible,
To people and belongings which have an unimpeachable force.
Farmers need to be remembered, given relevance,
For their labour, dedication and sheer love of the job;
It’s that occupation and training which ensures,
Our basic daily needs are met not just with contours.
The harvest basket every year means to me hope,
Nourishment for those who starve and scrape;
Church wealth rides so high and mighty on average,
That this real examination is something to advocate.
“What are we ever going to use this for?”
Students ask every single school day.
So sit back, grab a coffee, get comfortable,
And all the reasons, to you, I will say.
Fundamentally it’s about allowing people to
Fully realize the value of their own mentality.
To make them know ethics and empathy,
Solve problems, be social, owning morality.
Education develops language and literacy,
Listening and comprehension sufficiently.
It develops an ability to solve small and large problems,
Solving them efficiently.
Students will learn, first hand, how to explore
An active community with a rich diversity.
And how to repair self-esteem, cooperatively respecting others,
Whenever they face adversity.
They will refine gross and fine motor skills,
Learn how to set targets and achieve their goals.
And whenever things seem to become too much,
They learn how to jump over potholes.
Education is not about capitalism which produces too much,
Sharing nothing, at too high a price.
And it’s not about communism failing as an ascetic morality,
Essentially a fool’s paradise.
Education creates peacemakers, healers, restorers,
Storytellers, and lovers of every shape and form.
It creates people with moral courage to make this world a habitable,
Happy, humane thunderstorm.
kill two birds with one stone
why kill two birds with one stone
when one can kill them
more efficiently with a drone
or more appropriately
LOVE them through A poem
The late afternoon sun is quickly setting
I walk alone along the graying concrete path
And spy an army of ants crawling over a dead bug
Even the smallest ants cast long shadows.
Masses of ants march swiftly and efficiently
Covering the corpse and dismantling its innards
Going about their task without hesitation
Even the smallest ants cast long shadows.
Bending down, I touch the ants and they scatter
Momentary confusion creates temporary discord
Quickly they reassemble and resume their task
Even the smallest ants cast long shadows.
Written on 1/11/2015
MATHEMATICS
Most Momentous Majestic Monitor
Anytime Affirmative analyzing accuracy
Top Trainer tuning treating talent
Humdinger Hero having highest honor
Excellent Explorer explaining efficiently
Marvelous Methodical Mind Mender
Acquisitive Analytic approaching applying accuracy
Terrific Teacher thinking tutoring tactfully
Ideal Instructor initiating intense intelligence
Capable Cultivator countering correcting chaos
Sagacious Systematic Scientific Searcher sorting solution
10/15/15
The air is crisp, cold weather
that you can sink your teeth into.
It's midwinter with a brief break
between rainy weather fronts.
My fat limping dog and I have
got to get out of the house and
find some wildness.
He lets me know of his happiness
and I ignore his comment about hypocrites
as I put his leash on and
he drags me down the trail.
"How will we ever find wildness
under these conditions?"
he barks at me.
"Maybe this time boss?
Maybe this time you will let go?"
We walk down the trail by
the storm swollen stream and
hear the same question posed in the air.
The storm stream tries hard to break free
and wreck havoc, but,
the well engineered cement banks
give it nothing to grab hold of and it
careens on past to the sea, harmlessly.
The river's only hope to spread wildness
is another storm to raise its banks.
The grass above the banks is all of a kind,
easily mowed, and no threat to the asphalt
path we walk.
There is some hope of wildness
in the windblown debris
left over from the storm.
Perhaps seeds of a hardier folk
will move in among the grasses and
the perfect line of trees
that border the trail.
Such strangers will have to hide
and take cover before the caretakers
of the trail arrive tomorrow.
They will efficiently find all wildness
from the storm and make sure that
it is all discarded and hauled to the dump.
Perhaps I am looking for nature
in all the wrong places.
Here it has been collared and leashed
and rendered docile.
Still it fights back.
My hopeful dog directs my attention to the stream
and points to an otter that sinks when I look.
"Maybe this time, boss?" he implores.
Overhead, three noisy geese, free as you please,
as insolent as if they were twenty,
announce their imminent landing
at the county water control pond.
Not all of us are on a leash yet.
I know I should love my brother.
But, they stick me in this
forsaken place and say “kill”.
What do I do with this love?
When the enemy stands before me
with no retribution in his eye,
only a look of bewilderment;
where do I put it for those next
Few seconds?
With fury of Satan
I enter the relm of self preservation.
Automatically, I move.
Methodically, efficiently, I separate
him from life, limb, family, and future.
Even through my tears
I can see, the faint smile on dead lips;
and I know this man is not my enemy.
This man is like many others
and somewhere, someone knows that.
Yet, destiny has placed him in the wrong place,
at the wrong time---the wrong side of the fence.
I contemplate the mystery of death
as I move methodically through the harshness
of the terrain.
Suddenly I see a bright light
only a millisecond before
I feel myself crashing to the earth.
The man I had just killed
cradled my head to his chest.
I ponder death
as I float twixt worlds --
not afraid